


Insomnia

by adjectivebear (HealerAriel)



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Ficlet, Friend Fluff, Gen, in which Imogen is a dork, just some wishful thinking for all the insomniacs out there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-31
Updated: 2015-12-31
Packaged: 2018-05-10 16:11:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5592715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HealerAriel/pseuds/adjectivebear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Imogen can’t sleep. She and Solas do some platonic bonding instead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Insomnia

“Whoa!” Imogen cried, her jaw dropping. “Oops, sorry,” she added quickly, wincing as Solas scrambled to catch the palette he’d fumbled at her outburst. She made a mental note that two o'clock in the morning was, perhaps, not the best time to sneak up on the apostate.

Thankfully, he didn’t look _too_ terribly annoyed when he turned to face her. He cocked one eyebrow in a silent query.

Imogen grinned sheepishly. “Sorry,” she said again. “It’s just… Maker’s flaming  _balls_ , Solas, you never told me you could paint!”

Solas’s lips quirked upward ever so slightly as he came to stand beside her at the center of the room, surveying his handiwork from a distance. “Until now, it was not relevant,” he said. “The technique is not a complicated one.”

“Listen to you, all humble,” she laughed, nudging him in the ribs. “This is  _amazing_!”

“I—,” an expression of puzzlement crossed his face, but quickly gave way to a small smile, a pink tinge creeping into his ears. “Thank you.”

“Could you paint something in my room?” Imogen asked, her mind turning to the huge, bare wall above her bed. “A griffon? Ooh, or a dragon?”

Solas chuckled. “Yes. I will paint your dragon.”

Imogen clapped, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

“On that note, I am rather curious as to why you are not _in_ your room.”

“Couldn’t sleep.”

Solas nodded solemnly. “Understandable. The responsibility you shoulder is a heavy one.”

“Huh?” Imogen’s brows furrowed. “ _Oh_ , that. No. I mean, it _is_ , but that’s not why. I’ve always had trouble sleeping.”

Solas regarded her curiously. “Indeed?”

“Yep. Drove my nanny crazy.”

Solas hummed thoughtfully. “I may have a remedy for that.”

Imogen shrugged. “Lay it on me.”  
  


* * *

  
The potion Solas brought her the following evening tasted strongly of mildew and overcooked beets, but Imogen slept soundly that night, and each night she took it thereafter.

And Imogen saw to it that the next shipment of supplies from Val Royeaux contained numerous books about the Fade, a brand new set of brushes, and the finest paints that money could buy.


End file.
